by Valerie Parv
She wasn’t model-thin, either, but her hips were womanly and perfectly proportioned to the rest of her. Not a woman to get by on a lettuce leaf, he thought, grinning involuntarily, recalling the ice cream and hot dog she’d downed during their round of the street fair. He’d bet she had other strong appetites, too.
He pulled his thoughts up with a mental jerk. Her involvement with Genevieve was behind these strange fantasies. Apart from anything else, Zoe hated him for coming between her and the child she’d grown to love and, damn it, she had a right to. So why did he feel this grabbing sensation deep inside every time she looked at him? She hadn’t even cared when Genevieve dripped ice cream on what was obviously an expensive dress, although he knew Ruth would have blown a gasket.
In short, Zoe Holden was nothing like Ruth—and it worried the heck out of him.
What was the absurd nickname she’d bestowed on his daughter? Genie. It would have to stop. He wasn’t having his child sounding like something out of a magic lamp.
Zoe would probably find a way to shorten her own name if she could. Zoe. He played with the name in his mind. It sounded a bit like zowee, a crazy word he and his sister had used as children to describe anything really terrific. Funny, he hadn’t given the word a thought in years.
He braked impatiently as a delivery van cut in ahead of him. Now was hardly the time to indulge in flights of fantasy. He had a new and challenging role ahead of him, which he intended to tackle with the same zeal usually applied to business.
Remembering his doctor’s advice, he decided to start right away.
Picking up the voice-activated recorder he always carried with him, he began dictating a memo to his secretary, Angela. “I want you to have Brian take over for me for the next few weeks. I can be contacted at White Stars in emergency but don’t expect me in the office for a while.” He grinned, picturing Angela’s reaction to his next words. “You’ll be pleased to know your boss is finally taking that vacation you’ve been nagging me about.”
He wasn’t concerned about taking the break. Angela ran his office like a well-oiled machine. She knew what she could safely handle in his absence and what should be referred to himself or to Brian, his deputy. He was glad now that he had anticipated such an eventuality. Too many companies depended on one man and foundered if that man glanced away. James didn’t intend his company to be among them.
He lifted the recorder. “I’m also turning over the purchase of the Strathfield mansion to Brian. The paperwork is already on its way to you from the agent, Zoe Holden.” He knew his secretary well enough to add, “And you can take those stars out of your eyes, Ms. Davis. I’m not going off to play house with Zoe Holden. Just because you’re engaged to be married doesn’t mean the rest of the world floats on a cloud of romance.”
He added several business notes before ending the tape, which he planned to drop off on his way past the office. Then he’d officially be on leave. He started to whistle and actually let several chances to switch lanes pass him by, feeling lighter and more carefree than he had in a long time.
Was he so uplifted by the idea of a vacation? Hardly. He didn’t find recreation especially relaxing, except for the exhilaration of riding one of his prize Arabian horses at White Stars. And after his doctor’s stern injunction to take things easy, he guessed horse riding was out for a while. So what, then?
He refused to attribute his elevated mood to Zoe Holden, however much his starry-eyed secretary might wish it to be so. For a start, Zoe was a blonde and they had never turned him on.
Well, maybe not blond exactly. What would he call the elusive color of her hair, which flowed around her shoulders like handfuls of silk? Palomino? It had a unique honey sheen with platinum highlights, much too unusual to be merely blond. And judging from the way she’d guarded Genevieve like a tigress protecting its cub, she had an inner strength to match. He had a feeling that separating her from his child was going to be more of a challenge than the eighteen months of searching put together.
Zoe flashed her neighbor an apologetic smile. “I hope Simon isn’t too disappointed about missing our video date tonight.”
Julie shook her head. “My sister is coming over with her twins. They’re a year younger than Simon and he loves bossing them around.” She added milk to the mug of coffee Zoe put in front of her. “Besides, reruns of Bambi can’t compare with dinner with a gorgeous hunk like James Langford.”
Zoe took a deep breath. “It isn’t what you think, Julie. He’s a client, nothing more.”
Julie regarded her keenly. “Since when does a client bring such a flush to your cheeks. Not that it’s a bad thing. Andrew burned you badly, but it doesn’t mean all men are the same.”
Zoe sighed. “I know, but I’m not ready to risk it again, even so.” And especially not with a man like James Langford. If they had met under other circumstances, things might have been different. But he was Genie’s father first and foremost, and Zoe was simply an obstacle in his way. Added to which, his willingness to have her investigated without her knowledge reminded her much too uncomfortably of Andrew’s despicable behavior.
So why did her emotions threaten to overwhelm her every time she thought of James? He struck a chord of longing deep inside her, she recognized, reminding her of needs she had barely allowed herself to own in over two years.
She became aware that Julie was watching her intently. “What’s really going on here, Zoe?”
“Nothing. Why do you ask?”
“We’ve been friends for too long.” Her eyes widened with concern. “Is it something to do with Genie?”
Zoe felt her eyes brim and the tightness in her chest increased. “Oh, Julie, I don’t know what I’m going to do. James is Genie’s real father.”
Coffee spilled from her friend’s cup as she recoiled in astonishment. “Her father? No wonder you look as if your world has ended. When did you find out?”
“James came on the pretext of inspecting the Strathfield place, while you and the kids were at playgroup.”
Julie gave a soundless whistle. “You had no idea what he really wanted?”
Zoe shook her head. “I thought it was strictly business until he showed me the documentation. There’s no doubt.”
“This is really rough on you,” Julie said in concern. “If there’s anything I can do to help…”
“Thanks, but there isn’t much anyone can do. My only hope is to make him understand that Genie needs me as much as she needs a father.”
Julie looked aghast. “He can’t mean to take her away from you completely?”
“It’s possible.” Zoe lifted pain-filled eyes to her friend. “He has the law on his side. The crazy part is, I don’t even blame him. I hate what he’s doing to me, but in his place I’d do exactly the same thing.”
Julie’s eyes narrowed. “There’s more to this, though, isn’t there?”
Zoe looked away. “You’re imagining things.”
“No, I’m not. You’re attracted to him, aren’t you?”
Zoe’s jerking movement upset her coffee and hot liquid flowed across the countertop. Mopping it up enabled her to avert her flushed face from Julie’s searching appraisal. “Clumsy of me,” she muttered. “It must be all the stress.”
Julie was not to be sidetracked. “It could also be that I’m on the right track.”
“You can’t be. He’s the man who intends to take my child away. I may never see her again, and certainly not as her mother. How can I possibly feel attracted to him?”
Julie shrugged. “Who says we’re only attracted to suitable men? Neither of my husbands was what you’d call suitable. Neither was Andrew, come to mention it, but we married them anyway. Chemistry is the darnedest thing, sometimes impossible to resist.”
Zoe nodded. “You’re right as usual. I was naive enough to mistake Andrew’s jealousy as proof of his love. I don’t plan on making such a fool of myself again, especially not with a man who thinks I’m in his way.”
Julie fo
lded her arms across her chest. “Admitting you find him attractive doesn’t mean you’re being disloyal to Genie, you know. It could be the perfect solution, if the two most important people in her life got together.”
The very idea sent a shiver down Zoe’s spine. Julie hadn’t met James or seen the determination in his eyes when he vowed to take Genie back. He wasn’t likely to let anything stand in his way, even any feelings he might have for Zoe. She clamped her hands over her ears. “Stop it. James isn’t interested in me. I’m only an obstacle to get to his daughter.”
“Not an enviable position to be in if everything I’ve heard about him is true,” Julie observed. “World Magazine said he made his first million at twenty and doesn’t have anything to do with his family. And something must have been wrong for his wife to run away and take his child. Did he tell you what happened?”
Briefly Zoe explained about James’s marriage. “It seems his wife was the one with the problem,” she concluded.
“But there are two sides to every argument. Maybe he’s a closet sadist who beats women,” Julie speculated.
Zoe shook her head. “He may be single-minded and ruthless in business, but he doesn’t seem cruel.”
“You said he returned to the Middle East after Genie was born. Maybe he runs a harem over there,” Julie persisted.
Knowing the way James had stirred her own blood, Zoe allowed that Julie’s screwball theory was closer to being possible. Not a harem, but perhaps an affair, which Ruth had discovered. Maybe it was James and not Ruth who had chafed against the strictures of married life. To Zoe’s surprise she found she didn’t really want to believe it.
“This is getting me nowhere,” she said finally. “No matter how attractive James is—and yes, I agree he is—he is still the enemy.”
“Sorry to play devil’s advocate, but I gather you don’t think Genie would be better off with him?”
Zoe chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. “He may be her biological father, but if he was too caught up in his own affairs to come back to his wife and child, how long will it be before the novelty of fatherhood wears off again?”
“What are you going to do?”
Zoe squared her shoulders. “Somehow I have to convince him that Genie needs me. If I can’t, maybe there’s a legal avenue I can try.”
Julie looked distressed. “So much for my notion of a romantic dinner à deux. It sounds more like meat cleavers at ten paces. Do you want me to stay as backup?”
Zoe shook her head. “Enjoy your evening with your sister. I can handle James Langford.”
Brave words, she thought as she tidied away the coffee things after Julie and her young son had gone home. In spite of her assurances to her friend, Zoe wasn’t at all sure she could live up to them.
The trouble was, as she’d confessed to Julie, she did understand how James felt. Her own love for Genie was so strong she could easily imagine the torment of having the little girl hidden from her. It was every parent’s worst nightmare. Maybe it was why she felt so drawn to James. Somehow it was hard to make herself believe it.
The house seemed preternaturally still, almost like a promise of things to come. She found herself looking in on Genie every few minutes, to reassure herself the little girl was still happily engrossed with her dolls.
Suddenly Zoe straightened. She was acting as if James had already won. She was letting herself get used to the idea of life without Genie. Maybe James had won. Maybe she could do nothing to change the outcome. But maybe she could. Surely she owed it to her daughter not to give up? Genie’s very presence in her life was a miracle. If it took another one to keep her, Zoe would simply have to find one.
Chapter Five
Despite her resolution, she was far from prepared when James arrived that evening. Even less so when she opened the door to find him holding an enormous bouquet of perfect yellow roses. Their perfume enveloped her in a sensuous cloud, which made her head spin.
It had nothing to do with the sight of James on her doorstep, she told herself determinedly. All the same she was vividly aware of a mass of small details such as the way the porch light glinted off his dark hair, highlighting the masculine waves that strayed across his high, intelligent forehead.
Her fingers didn’t really itch to smooth the hair out of his eyes, she thought, clenching her fingers in automatic self-defense. James was well prepared to use his natural advantages to achieve his purposes. That she was already reacting to him on a physical level should be warning enough of the threat he represented to her well-being.
“Come in,” she invited in a voice less than steady.
“For you.” He offered the roses. Only someone as self-assured as James could carry the flowers and still look unreservedly masculine, she thought, uncomfortably aware of her heart picking up speed.
Deliberately she placed the bouquet on the hall table, stressing their unimportance, although every fiber of her being urged her to cherish the magnificent flowers because they were a gift from him. All the more reason to let him think they were of no importance to her, she told herself. That he was of no importance to her. No other possibility was acceptable.
He passed the flowers without comment. As she went to close the door, he said, “Anton is right behind me with our dinner.”
“You meant it when you said you’d take care of everything.” In a kind of defiance against what she was feeling toward him, she’d refused to plan anything for the evening. If it meant he ate nothing, so be it. She wasn’t about to spend hours in the kitchen cooking for a man who meant to destroy her life.
His direct gaze jolted through her as he said, “I always mean what I say.”
Refusing to consider the possibilities this opened up, she struggled to frame a reply. They were interrupted by a black-bearded bear of a man in chef’s garb, his arms laden with provisions. After a brief greeting and request for directions, Chef Anton aimed himself at her kitchen from which soon emanated the sounds of food being prepared.
Zoe had a sense of being run over by a steamroller, or was it the Aussie Bulldozer? “I didn’t realize you meant to bring your chef to make dinner here,” she snapped.
His eyebrow lifted. “Does it matter? We have more pressing matters to discuss.”
“Now that you’ve established your superior status.” Having his chef here reminded her uncomfortably of James’s power, his ability to move people around like chess pieces. Had Ruth also objected to being a pawn in his game?
He paused in the act of uncorking a bottle of vintage Chardonnay. “It never occurred to me to check with you. Anton is here for your convenience as much as mine.”
He couldn’t understand her objection, she thought in consternation. “All the same, it does emphasize the difference in our life-styles.”
He held out a brimming glass. “I don’t intend to use my financial status as a bargaining chip. This isn’t about who can give Genevieve the most toys. What matters is what’s best for her welfare.”
Zoe accepted the glass but didn’t drink. The glass felt icy in her fevered grasp. “Even if it’s to leave her in my care?”
“If it was best for her, that’s precisely what I would do.”
“But you don’t believe it is.”
His expression hardened. “She belongs with her family, Zoe.”
She spread her hands beseechingly. “Are you certain you’re the best person to take care of her? Materially you can give her more than I ever can, but what about other more important considerations?” Such as a mother’s love, she added silently.
He looked as if he was tempted to debate the issue with her, then decided against it and set his glass down. “I’d like to see her now.”
“She’s playing in her room,” she said, suddenly hoarse.
As she moved to lead the way, he placed a hand on her arm. “Just tell me which way.”
His touch created instant havoc inside her. Her heart began to pound and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. His hand felt fiery
on her arm, his nearness creating a searing awareness like a hunger. It was over in a flash, but its passing left her shaken. What was going on here? He was the enemy, the man who would take her child. Yet at some level she knew her response had nothing to do with Genie.
“Which way?” he prompted again. The spell shattered and she could function again, but barely. She moved woodenly toward the hallway and gestured to a half-open door. He nodded, his breathing as much of an effort as hers, as he pushed the door all the way open. Genie sat on the floor surrounded by her family of dolls.
Zoe held her breath as James dropped to his knees to put himself on Genie’s level. “Hello, sweetheart. Recovered from the excitement of the fair?”
After a quick glance at Zoe for reassurance, Genie smiled back. “Hi, James. Woof is saying hello to my dolls.”
Woof was the newly christened toy dog James had won for her at the fair. It had quickly been absorbed into Genie’s make-believe family. Urged on by James, Genie began to introduce her toys to him.
The scene took only moments, but Zoe could hardly believe the transformation. From initial uncertainty, Genie had relaxed into complete acceptance of James, taking her cue from his gentle tone and genuine interest in her game.
Zoe’s thoughts spun. Was this the man whose presence in her house set her heart thudding so hard it felt as if someone was playing drumbeats on her chest? Where was the corporate warrior now, down on his knees with a four-year-old? She was reminded of Ruth’s description of him as ruthless and insensitive. If he was, he concealed it amazingly well.
James got to his feet, heedless of his impeccably tailored trousers, and offered Genie his hand. “Ready for some dinner?”
“I already had mine,” Genie said importantly. “I had fish fingers and mashed potato mountains.”
“Then you don’t mind if I have dinner with Zoe?” he asked the child.
She shook her head. “Can I have some ice cream?”
He glanced at Zoe who nodded. “She usually eats earlier, but sometimes I let her have dessert later as a treat.”
